


Abandon

by paradoxicalconverse



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Complete, F/F, Hate Sex, Oops, Smut, didn't mean to write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 15:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4751351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxicalconverse/pseuds/paradoxicalconverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know why this happened, but it did.</p>
<p>AKA, the hate sex fic with absolutely no plot or purpose whatsoever. </p>
<p>Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Abandon

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a single clue why I wrote this.
> 
> Also: for those of you who have read my hs au fic, I'm working on it. I'll update it hopefully soon?

She leaves. Every. Damn. Time.

No. That’s a lie. She doesn’t leave.

She _abandons._

Laura feels the dry heave pour from her chest, catch in her mouth, swirl in her brain, tear her apart. She can’t entirely remember the last thing she’d said to her—something that had to words ‘love’ and ‘hate’ interspersed between varying other words.

A slammed door and an empty feeling in the pit of her chest can prove, however, that whatever she had said, maybe hadn’t been the best choice.

Laura wants to believe that she’ll be back. They don’t argue often, but Laura has yet to see an argument where Carmilla doesn’t stand and slam the door behind her to signify the end of the altercation, returning hours later with blood dripping from her chin and a snarl hiding behind her words.

Admittedly, one or the other is then shoved up against the door and fucked senseless, and the topic is seemingly resolved the following morning.

Three hours have passed since the disappearance, and the nails on both of Laura’s hands have been chewed down with anxiety of waiting for her return. Her anger has simmered down into a low boil, replaced with nerves as minute after minute crawls by on the clock.

The silence refuses to last.

Vampiric constitution, she has learned several times over, trumps human senses, no matter the circumstance. So it is without her notice that Carmilla appears in a puff of black smoke behind her and steps forward, molding her form to her girlfriend and running the tip of her nose against the protruding vein in her neck.

Laura’s breath freezes in her chest, eyes pinned forwards as she becomes acutely aware of Carmilla’s front pressed up against every inch of her back, warm and safe.

She knows she should feel relief about her return.

Instead, rage roars in her ears, blood boiling.

She tears herself from Carmilla’s front and spins, then palms of her hands colliding with Carmilla’s shoulder as she shoves, sending the wide eyes and the lean, muscular body sprawling onto the bed behind her. Carmilla hates bottoming, she knows, hates feeling like she’s being dominated rather than dominating. But tonight is not the gentle kisses, the agonizing foreplay, the soft coos of ‘I love you’s in the dark and ‘never leave me’s.

Tonight is much more electric, angry. Tonight is about Laura pouring all of her anger into Carmilla until she is begging and writhing beneath her, a sweaty mess of entangled limbs and half-gone pleas of ‘take me.’

She’s pushing her knee between Carmilla’s legs and forcing them open in front of her, hands splayed across her thighs to hold them in place. One set of eyes blown wide meets another, and Carmilla is nodding her consent, chest heaving with breaths she doesn’t need to take and fingers gripping the sheets of the bed so tightly that her fingernails might possibly tear through at any moment.

It takes less than a second for Laura to delve into ridding her of her pants, nearly tearing the button from her leather in her haste to slide them down Carmilla’s legs and discard them somewhere behind them in the room. Fingernails trace harsh lacerations into a toned stomach, pouring out as much anger through them as she can as she pushes the shirt over Carmilla and tosses it to join the pants. The marks turn red and begin to puff, Carmilla’s mouth falling open and head falling back as the pain transforms into pleasure.

Laura refuses to assuage the wounds, instead choosing to dip her head and run her tongue along the scratches, biting down on the bottom of her ribcage when Carmilla moans beneath her. “No,” she hisses. “You don’t get to make a sound. You do that again, and I stop.”

Carmilla nods, eyes squeezed shut and teeth sinking into her lower lip to halt any noise that might slip unchecked from her lungs. Her fangs are out, as they tend to surface when she’s aroused, and Laura presses her thumb against the bottom of one, hard enough to draw blood until a tiny pinprick sits on the pad of her finger. She smears it lightly against Carmilla’s bottom lip, then traces it down her chin and between her breasts.

“Don’t you dare lick your lips. That blood stays there until I’m done.”

A muffled heave of air from Carmilla is the only indication to Laura that she understands.

Laura nods her approval and takes a hardened nipple in between her forefinger and thumb, rolling the sensitive ending between her fingertips before pinching hard, and it takes all of Carmilla’s power not to scream as her hips fly off of the bed.

A snarl spills from Laura’s lips and she angrily shoves the hips back down, laying herself over her stomach to halt the movement from occurring again. Carmilla is stronger than her, much, much stronger, but the pupils in her complement’s eyes are so dilated with arousal that they swallow the dark black of the iris completely, and Laura knows that she won’t be making that mistake again.

Red still glistens on Carmilla’s lips, a reminder that the blood is to remain there until she comes.  Carmilla’s tongue darts out for a moment to taste the air, smell the arousal that Laura is trying to hide. Laura feels the blood in her veins begin to sing as she realizes that this simple action has given Carmilla the upper hand. “I can smell how turned on you are, cupcake,” she murmurs, shifting her hips to push Laura higher up against her body. “Get on the bed and I can help you do something about that.”

“ _No_.” The growl is more of a command over anything else, and the thought of Laura commanding Carmilla absolutely ruins her underwear.

Laura grins.

“So bottoming _is_ hot for you. How interesting.”

“Fuck me already,” Carmilla murmurs, pride suffering heavy blows. Carmilla Karnstein does not beg. Although, recently, Carmilla Karnstein didn’t fall in love with 19-year-old girls either, so a lot of things that she’s not doing are changing for Laura.

Any other time topping, Laura would have laughed and moved away, teasing her girlfriend to no end until her back was arching of the bed and she’d practically say anything to get Laura to begin.

This is not the case.

She tears the black lace panties at the seams and discards the ruined pair over her shoulder, pressing two fingers into her own mouth to wet them before running circles against a stiffened clit, Carmilla’s eyes rolling backwards into her head as her mouth falls slack into a silent scream of ecstasy.

“You’ll adjust to fit me,” Laura murmurs, before two fingers are inside of her and her thumb is working against her clit, fingers curling. Carmilla bows off the bed again, despite the fact that Laura is sprawled on top of her. An inevitable scream tears from her throat. Sweat collects on her forehead as the fingers work inside of her, the tip of Laura’s middle fingers pressing hard against that certain spot inside of Carmilla that makes her want to explode into pieces.

She thrusts harder into Carmilla, knuckles slamming against her as her hands work against the apex of her thighs. Her thumb presses hard into Carmilla’s clit and another scream surfaces. The red of the blood, however, still glistens on her lips, so Laura allows herself to continue, pressing harder against her and moving her fingers inside of her girlfriend, curling them at the tips. The pain is absolutely exquisite as Laura slips a third finger in and grinds slowly.

Fingers that had previously been clenching the bedsheets tear through, ripping holes into the fabric.

Neither cares enough to notice.

“This,” she pants, and a particularly hard thrust has Carmilla shuddering beneath her as an orgasm begins to build inside of her, “is for you always leaving me.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Carmilla murmurs, and another shriek pours from her as her clit is pushed roughly to the side and pressed angrily. “I won’t—I know—you’re angry.”

“Damn right, I’m angry,” Laura hisses, and thrusts even harder, biting down on a collarbone so hard that Carmilla cries out and teeth marks remain against the pale expanse of skin. “I have every right to be angry. You can’t keep leaving, Carm! You can’t just leave when you’re angry!”

Carmilla opens her mouth to respond just as Laura circles her thumb around her clit and flexes her fingers inside of her, and it’s enough to hurtle her over the edge, orgasm washing through her, hips thrashing and abdomen muscles quivering. Laura works her through slowly, gently moving her fingers until Carmilla has come down from off of her high and is left as a panting, quivering mess of sweaty limbs and gasped breaths.

“Blood,” Laura murmurs, and the image of Carmilla wetting her lips and collecting the red from them sends a tingle of electricity jolting down her stomach.

Eyes are closed as she takes a deep breath, tastes Laura on her tongue. “I didn’t—I don’t want to hurt you. I’m scared that if I get too angry, I’ll lose my temper. I do it because I love you.”

Laura breathes slowly through her nose. Her anger has subsided into a dull throb at the base of her skull. Fucking Carmilla senseless seemed to do something to help. “I love you, too. You can’t keep leaving me.”

Carmilla shakes her head, and pulls Laura against her, entangling their legs. “I’ll never leave you.”

Laura allows her head to rest against a sweat-slicked chest, still quivering from her orgasm. “I know you won’t.”

It’s later on that night, with more muffled cries, sweaty bodies, and entangled limbs, that Laura realizes something.

She could live forever, and it would still never be enough time. Carmilla is hers, and she is Carmilla’s, and eternity is such a torturously small concept.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: please-say-nine.tumblr.com  
> I take fic prompts if you guys like it  
> also I know that I'm terrible at endings. oops.


End file.
